


I met you in a dream

by hydrangeamaiden



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-11-26 14:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20931416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrangeamaiden/pseuds/hydrangeamaiden
Summary: Hornet makes a new friend, unaware of their true relation to her.





	1. Chapter 1

The closer Hornet gets to the edge of the Queen's Gardens, the wilder the foliage and the bugs become. She had been told not to come this far, but nothing exciting happens if you're obedient all the time. Before she knows it, she's entering the Pilgrim's Way. Pillars of earth stand in a pond of acid, and armored bugs she has never seen before walk through it like water. Anyone else would have to brave it on foot. Hornet bypasses this challenge by crawling along the ceiling. Along the way, she finds a small tunnel and crawls upwards.

She's in a real forest! It's not all trimmed and tamed like the White Lady's plants. Huffing and puffing with excitement, she toddles through a sea of grass. She narrowly avoids cliffs, thorns, and bugs looking for a little snack. No matter where she goes, there's no shortage of things to climb. The soft but strong moss allows for an easy ascent. Harmless moss creeps flee with a swing of her toy needle, making her laugh.

The little princess is having so much fun that she doesn't realize how lost she is. When the moss thins out and becomes stone, and when she hears the distant howl of wind, she freezes.

“Hello?”

Hornet lowers her toy, and lifts her head. The ceiling is bare and unfriendly, with a smattering of fossils too big to be used as Geo. A draft comes somewhere from the east, chasing her back down the hole which she came. From there is the way she came, but from the top-down, it is unfamiliar. Here she has found herself in a strange land, herself a stranger, and the only one about. The only other bugs she has seen here are the same size or smaller than herself, which she should count her blessings for, but seeing _only_ small bugs makes this boundary between green and gray feel like the edge of the world. As a child of Hallownest, she feels it instinctively that going past this point is dangerous.

What is Hallownest besides dangerous? Outside the boundaries of the Palace, out of reach of those caring for her, and away from everything that is not meticulously maintained and has been left to seed. Hornet wanders through a tunnel with low-hanging vines, just worried enough to not want to swing off of them. Just ahead the tall grass rustles, and Hornet catches glimpse of a dull blue cloak disappear into the undergrowth. It is of the subdued shades of Deepnest or deeper, a color that would go unnoticed by most, but Hornet recognizes it at once and gives chase.

She stumbles, trips, and drops her shellwood needle to grasp at the cloak with both hands. Her little white face tilts up hopefully. “Ma?”

What looks back down at her is a smudged ivory mask that does not belong to Herrah the Beast. For one, this bug is far too small, with only four limbs, two eyes, and horns that are shaped all wrong. On their back is a nail that has seen much use, and is already showing cracks in the blade. Hornet tilts her head to the side, compelled by this ragged creature.

“Are you a ghost?” she asks, and then supposes supposes that a ghost wouldn't answer her anyway, and that she wouldn't have been able to touch it in the first place. They gently tug themselves away from her hands, giving Hornet the impression of shyness when they look down at the moss.

“You have a nail. Are you a knight?” she inquires further, and they give a half-hearted shrug. She retrieves her toy needle from the ground, and you know what? She's going to call them a 'ghost' anyway. Her own little ghost, who she found at the edge of the world. It would be a good idea for a story, if she were inclined to write.

“I have a needle, but I'm too little for it, so I've got this for now,” she explains. The two look at it together, admiring the glossy shellwood, and the silvery paint that makes it look _almost_ like a real weapon. The tip is sanded down to keep little grubs from hurting themselves by accident. “You _must_ be a knight, if you've got a cloak and a nail. Knights serve royalty, but you haven't got any emblems on you. Surely you can't be one of Lady Unn's, because you're not covered in moss. You can't be the Lady's, either, because you haven't got any proper armor.”

She circles her guileless new companion. Having come to a decision, she stops at their side and puts her hands on her hips. “If you've not got anyone, you can be _my_ knight. Would you like to?”

The Ghost considers this, and nods. Hornet hops up and down, pleased by their compliance. “Yes! We will have so much fun, I promise. Now let's go!”

She takes their hand and leads them away, forgetting completely about finding her way home. The novelty of having a new playmate is intoxicating. With no plan in mind, but with the conviction of having one, they tromp along through the moss. The Ghost falls into their role of a knight so well that Hornet is convinced they've always been one. They fend off every bug that comes near the pair, and help their princess over even the easiest of obstacles in the terrain.

The two, unbeknownst to themselves in this disorienting wood, make it halfway back to the Queen’s Gardens. At a waterfall, they begin their ascent, ending up so close to the Crossroads that they can hear the rumble of voices and clatter of carts. When these sounds reach the Ghost, they cower behind a pillar with such obvious fright that Hornet must lead them by the hand back to ‘safety’.

With dampened spirits and sore legs, they rest on a bed of moss next to a sleek ribbon of a stream. Hornet dips her feet into the water, noting briefly the subtle tang of acid. They must be close to the Lake of Unn. Her companion has recovered from their panic and is calm, but has lost a noticeable amount of energy in the process. They sit listless, bobbing their feet up and down in the water with sad little splashes.

“That place was the Crossroads,” she informs them. “If we’ve come this far, then we _must_ be near the surface again. Or so I think. I’ve never been above ground before. My father says I’m not allowed. Say, were you going up to the surface?”

The Ghost nods. They slide off the moss they were sitting on, and into the stream to wash their shabby nail. A current of greenish water comes through, and the Ghost leaps out of the water. It is Hornet who has to rescue their weapon, as they sit on the bank massaging their hands. They point to the acidic water, and shake their head.

“Does it hurt a lot?” she asks as she wades out with the Ghost’s nail. They nod again, this time in earnest, and she takes a moment to squeeze the moisture from her cloak. She sits before them to inspect their carapace, which looks like it’s _melting_. A black droplet falls onto Hornet’s cloak, and she gasps. She has known bugs to be sensitive to acid, but not to this degree. The first thing she can think to do is rip up handfuls of moss, and press them to the Ghost’s hands. This, at the very least, is free from the acid blight. The Ghost shudders at first, but Hornet shushes them.

“It’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

But there’s no denying the nervous strain in her voice. It was just a game before, but now her companion is hurt for real, and she doesn’t know what’s wrong with them. The two of them retreat from the water’s edge and into a grove, where they huddle nervously next to a bush. Hornet massages the moss into their hands with little panicked huffs. The Ghost, perhaps moved by this, takes their hand from hers and rests it on her forehead. They wince at the little black hand print they leave, but she is calming now.

Hornet balls her fists into her poncho morosely as the Ghost tends to their wounds on their own. What kind of princess and knight is she, if she gets panicky at the sight of a little blood? If that’s what it is. It has the consistency of blood, but feels like ice water on her shell and clothes. It is the color of ink, but lacks any kind of smell. Although unfamiliar, it is not unpleasant, which is a strange thought to have about another bug’s blood. She wipes her forehead—smearing the blood—and watches as Ghost tests their hand on their cloak. No longer bleeding.

Later, once sufficiently rested, they hike to a quite area above Lake Unn and rest against a mossy boulder. They’ve chosen this area not because of its potential as a playground, but because they’re simply tired and bored. Neither Hornet nor the Ghost know the way back to the Queen’s Gardens, and they’ve been out for so long that they now hear the commotion of crickets, somewhere in the background. The Ghost has been quiet for some time now. Their silence is not one of words, which they seem to lack, but in body language. They are as still as rock they lean against, even when a palm-sized butterfly lands on their horn. Hornet covers her mouth to giggle, and then lies down in the moss. Here the air is warm and the grass is dry, like a big nest.

The Ghost tilts their head at her inquisitively, but she only has a yawn to offer in response. They must be hardier than herself, if they don’t even feel a little tired. But then again, it’s hard to tell. No expression on that mask of theirs. She closes her eyes to the ambiance of the cavern, but it is the Ghost patting her arm that sends her to sleep.

She awakens suddenly, confused by her surroundings and a fast-fading dream. What had it been about, and what did it mean? She thinks for a moment that her Ghost had been a dream, until she sees a dark blot on her cloak. So it _was_ real. But she woke up alone. She sits up and calls out to them.

“Little Ghost? Where did you go?” She gets no answer, and cups her hands to her mouth. “Hello?”

“Why, whoever are you calling to, child?” responds a voice from behind the foliage. Hornet looks over her shoulder at a large white figure, brushing aside a curtain of vines. The White Lady’s roots stretch high above her and far below, neatly framing her wide form. Her very presence bathes the grove in soothing white light. She leans over Hornet, and regards her with a surprised blink.

“Oh, my.” The White Lady lifts Hornet up and into her arms, not minding the grime that gets on her in the process. “Again you have wandered from from my Garden, despite that not being allowed.”

“I was playing with a friend,” Hornet explains as she is borne away. “We were having so much fun, Lady.”

“I am sure you were,” the Queen replies, with the patient tone of someone listening to childish nonsense. “We should count our lucky stars that you are not injured. And what is...what is this on your forehead?”

She scrubs at the black smudge on Hornet’s forehead, frowning. Hornet swears she looked alarmed for a moment, but that could just be from how dirty she is. The White Lady loves when things are clean, after all. Hornet whines and squirms.

“It’s just dirt,” she lies. “Lemme down, so I can find my friend. Please?”

But the White Lady does not let her down. She shakes her head in disappointment, and walks swiftly on. “No. You are not to leave the Gardens unattended. I will see that your parents hear about this.”

“Nooooo….”

From a secluded spot, out of reach of the Lady’s roots, the Ghost watches as their new friend is taken away. Their heart aches with guilt at having left without saying goodbye, but they wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. Not with the Lady coming. The moment they sensed her, they were seized with panic and forced to flee. All they can muster is a little wave, which Hornet doesn’t see. She and the Lady disappear from the grove, but the fearsome white light lingers longer. The Ghost hugs themselves as if cold, and resumes their journey upwards.

It is a no small comfort that they leave Hallownest, knowing that they’re not the youngest sibling anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Knight, fixated on her, steps forward and promptly falls off the ledge.

Greenpath is about as dangerous as the Forgotten Crossroads, but it is beautiful, disarming. The Knight loves the way the grass rustles when they move through it, and how there’s moss on almost all surfaces. Everything is pretty and soft. They don’t consider any deeper reason for why it’s so lovely. They’ve not got much in the way of deep thought these days, however many of them they’ve spent by themselves. Days, months, and weeks blur together in an endless haze spent trekking snowy plains, passing through villages and climbing mountains. The even, unchanging ground of Hallownest is a relief to them. It helps that they are not wandering aimlessly this time.

They reach the edge of a ledge, and look down into a shaft of rocky pillars, infected bugs, and green. Always green, always the same plants as everywhere else in Greenpath. Ever-present is the trickle of water in the distance, but it always turns out to be acid when they get close enough. To quench their thirst, they resort to drinking dew off the leaves. They’ve yet to discover the freshwater source that feeds these plants to cool, refreshing opulence.

It is no wonder that the spot of red jumps out at them. What would have been dull red anywhere else is bright crimson here, demanding their full attention. The Knight lifts their head, instinctively taking a step towards this firelight, this crescent moon creature with a gleaming white shell, with one Void-black hand clutching a needle. The slight shift of her weight to one foot confirms that no, this isn’t a trick of the light. She’s real and tangible and compelling, and all she’s doing is _standing_ there. They look at her, and see someone they want to listen to. She, standing tall and strong, meets their stare with a fierce gaze of her own.

The Knight, fixated on her, steps forward and promptly falls off the ledge.

They tumbles down and land in a patch of moss, unharmed but mortified. Leaves spin lazily after them, and they brush one impatiently away as they fumble for their nail. At the top of the cliff, they see the red-clad bug poke her head over the edge with guileless black eyes. The Knight’s face steams, but not from the humidity.

They take up their nail and climb back up, but when they get closer, the bug turns and runs into the undergrowth. Just when they’ve reached the ledge, too! They make a proper jump this time, but even their strongest leap isn’t enough to reach where she was standing.

The Knight lets out a great big sigh. Now is the point in their journey when they understand that navigating Hallownest won’t be as easy as they thought. The Forgotten Crossroads had structure, but Greenpath has no consideration for travelers. Well, when was traveling ever simple? They jump off back off the ledge, landing carefully this time, and continue further down. They’ll make it through as they always have.

* * *

Once Hornet is out of their sight, she breaks into a frantic run. She tears through the ferns and vines, tramples a Mosscreep, and stumbles over a rock. She catches herself on a crumbled pillar, breathing heavily. This should be no surprise to her. She has seen dozens of Vessels before, killed them herself just to keep them from the Dreamers, prone in their beds. The fact that they had fallen to her needle meant that they wouldn’t have survived the Dreamers’ trials in the first place, and she had not been sad to see any of them go. Theirs was a pitiful existence; they were better off returning to the Abyss. It was a mercy she was doing to them, she kept telling herself. It was better this way.

She didn’t think she would see _them_ again. They were a perfect image of her memories of youth. More diminutive than she remembered, but then again, she had been but a hatchling. Everything else is the same: the shade of their cloak, more grey than blue; the shape of their nail, but with more cracks than she remembered. Hornet thought she had left her childhood behind, but then there they were: the mysterious knight, her one-time playmate, her Ghost.

Hornet draws herself to full height and puts a hand on her chest. They are not hollow, she knows that, but they were called here all the same. No matter how she feels, she has to stop them. Their well-meaning quest could mean the death of this Kingdom, and the few who remain.

It’s easier said than done. Hornet pursues her quarry, watching them cut down infected bugs and cutting down vines with the ease of a grub on a playground. They are clumsy as one, frequently tripping over spikes and falling into pools of acid, but every time they get up. It’s only when they spot her that things become difficult. She had sought to remain inconspicuous, but it’s not long before their blank eyes are upon her. She had been standing on some raised platform, watching them, and out in the open. It’s a known rule of theater that if you can see the audience, they can see you. She had forgotten that in her concentration. When they step towards her, she throws her needle, and sails away with it.

Throughout all of this, Hornet wonders if they recognize her, if they know who she is. Why do they pursue her so? No matter how far ahead she gets, the moment she lingers, they come trundling out of the undergrowth. They are hesitant in their pursuit, consistently getting distracted by the boons Greenpath has to offer: goods from fallen travelers, Geo deposits, and spars with infected Moss Knights. What she had seen as great strength and fortitude as a child is still that. It’s still just the same. Funny that despite the stasis she grew up, but the Ghost, presumably departed from Hallownest, didn’t.

She wonders what things would have been like, if she didn’t have to do this. Though she doesn’t always remember things clearly, she never forgets how other bugs have made her feel. The one time she had met the Ghost, she was happy.

Hornet b ows her head,  trying to rid herself of this useless sentimentality . No! She can’t think like that. Hallownest is more important than  that. The empty stare of a dead Vessel, pinned to the rock by its own nail, mocks her:  _you can’t kill them all. One of them is going to get away from you_ .

But not if they come to her first. The leaves rustle, and the little Ghost drops onto the ground behind her. They approach, nail sheathed against their back, open and eager. The point of her nail stops them in their tracks.

“Come no closer, ghost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was interest in a continuation, so I've gone ahead and written one. If it seems kind of jumbled, that's because I've been depressed, and creative work can be difficult when you're sad. Thanks for reading! Also, in my second playthrough, I really did fall a ledge because I was absolutely transfixed by Hornet (LOL)

**Author's Note:**

> It's not very long, but I just wanted to write something short and simple based on this concept. It's a scenario based on a 'what if' theory I came up with, that Ghost was following Hornet through Greenpath because they recognized her. It's not my main headcanon, but I still wanted to write it.


End file.
